The Sammy Parable
by Naci
Summary: This is a story of man named Sammy. Sammy worked with his brother Dean on the road, where he was a hunter.Orders came to him through a monitor on his lap in the form of news reports, telling him what monsters to shoot. And then one day something very peculiar happened. Something that would forever change Sammy. Something he would never quite forget.
1. Chapter 1

Sam had lost Dean. They'd spilt up as the dark path had forked in two different directions, but now two hours had passed and he didn't know where he'd gone. Hallucifer walked beside him, singing 'The Teddy Bears Picnic' quietly as they moved forwards. Sam, as always, ignored him.

"If you go down to the woods today, you'll sure get a big surprise..." His voice changed to an ominous tone and he followed it with dancing around Sam like he was a kid under a sheet pretending to be a ghost. Sam stopped and sighed heavily, looking anywhere but at him. There was a low growl from somewhere else in the trees, Lucifer stopped and stood beside Sam again.

"Zoinks!" He jumped up, aiming for the Winchester to catch him like in Scooby-doo but Sam kept his eyes on the darkness around him and Lucifer fell to the floor. He pouted a looked up. "That was rude, Sammy." His eyes widened. "SAM LOOK OUT!"

Sam turned suddenly as a werewolf jumped out of the bushes, pouncing at him. He pushed violently against Sam's shoulders so he slammed against a nearby tree. Sam hit is head and saw stars, slumping down to the floor unconscious. The werewolf went in for the kill when there was the sound of gun fire, it howled in pain and fell to the ground. Smoke rising off it's skin from the silver burns. Dean lowered his gun. As he went over to Sam it took a moment to shoot the monster in the chest again for good measure. He bobbed down, touching his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy?" he saw he was out cold and groaned. "Aw come on! Like I can carry you, you, you... giant!" He swore and put his gun away. He took Sam's arm and fireman lifted him. He uttered a string of curse words as he took Sam weight and started back towards the car. The vulgar language continued the whole way there.

Also Sam could hear was a high pitched ringing in his ears and the low grumble of Dean's voice on the phone. He new he was back at the vomit orange walled motel he and Dean had been staying in, but he didn't remember how he'd got there. He remember the werewolf jumping up, but besides that... nada.

"I don't know Bobby, but it's been a day! He should have woken up by now." There was a pause as Bobby spoke on the other side of the phone. "and say what? He fell over? He's got claw marks on him." Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "He's fine, I checked. I've been thinking... maybe this has something to do with the wall Death put in his noggin coming down." Dean laughed sardonically. "Yeah, you and me both, Bobby. I'm going to kick his feathery butt into next Tuesday if I ever see him again." He sighed again. "One thing at a time, man."

Sam groaned and sat up, rubbing his forehead. He felt like he'd drunk too much everyday that week. Dean saw him and smiled. "Looks like he's up. I'll update you later, okay? Alright. See ya, Bobby." He hung up and went over to his brother.

"How you doin', Jack?"

"Huh?"

"You know... Jack and Jill?"

"Oh..." Sam took his hand away from his head which was slowly getting better. "Yeah, I'm okay, Jill. My head just stinging a little."

Dean made a face at the Jill comment, but admitted to himself he'd seen it coming so let it past. "No signs of Lucifer?"

Sam looked around the room, but he couldn't see the devil on his shoulder anywhere. "Not right now."

Dean grinned. "Awesome." He got two beers out of the fridge and gave him one. "Here."

Sam took it happily and sipped the cold alcohol. It numbed his head agreeably and he felt a pressure in his head easing. "How's Bobby doing?"

He was hardly surprised he'd heard and just nodded. "He's fine, currently on the search for our new God." He said that bitterly, with a twinge of something like sadness he was clearly trying to hide. Sam knew all this was taking its toll on his brother. There were only so many times he could lose Castiel. It was like travelling with a walking bomb, he was always afraid Dean was going to explode and do something he's regret.

"How's that going?"

Dean made a noncommittal gesture, and sat down on his own bed, facing him. "But you're really okay, right?"

Sam took a moment to check everything was in order, then nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm okay."

**This is a story of a man named Sammy.**

Sam froze. A dulcet voice of an upper class English man rung his ears. "The hell?"

Dean frowned. "What?"

**Sammy ****worked with his brother Dean on the road, where he was a hunter.**

"That! That voice!" Sam stood up, looking around.

Dean sighed, "Sammy, there's no voice."

**Hunter Sammy's job was simple. He sat in the passenger seat of an Impala and he pulled the trigger of a gun.**

**Orders came to him through a monitor on his lap in the form of news reports, telling him what monsters to shoot.**

**This is what Hunter Sammy did everyday of every month of every year.**

**And although others might consider it soul destroying, Sammy relished every moment that the orders came in.**

**As though he had been made exactly for this job, and Sammy was happy.**

"Well that's a load of crap." he muttered to himself.

**And then one day something very peculiar happened. Something that would forever change Sammy.**

**Something he would never quite forget.**

Dean was staring at him in dismay. "Sam, what's going on?"

**He had been in his bed for nearly a day, when he realized that he was hearing a voice. He was beginning to question what was real and what was a dream**

**Never in all these years in the business had this happened twice in one day. This complete... Insanity. **

"Sammy?"

**Something was very clearly wrong - shocked, frozen solid, Sammy found himself unable to speak for the longest time. But when his brother asked him what was happening, Sam decided to tell him the truth as he thought it was better Dean knew he had finally gone stark raving mad. **

"Nothing. It's gone now, must have been an after affect." Sam lied smoothly, giving Dean a quick reassuring smile.

Dean didn't look convinced, but he took Sam's word for it. "Alright then. I'm going to take a shower, then how about we hit the road?"

"Sounds good." Sam nodded, gripping his beer a little tighter. Once Dean was out the room, the voice spoke again.

**This was not the correct thing to tell his brother, and Sammy knew it perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to give Dean one less thing to worry about. **

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Sam muttered to himself, hoping he was just dreaming.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stared out the passenger seat window of the Impala. His was brow furrowed and there was a continual and nagging sense of dread in his chest. The voice in his head was driving him crazy, narrating every little thing he did, telling him what do you. He always ignored it. This seemed to upset it, like it was reading from a script and Sam wasn't sticking to it. Strangely enough, having some English prick dictating every little thing he did was more irritating than Lucifer keeping him awake every night. At least when he had dreamed, Satan had had the common decency to stay out. But this voice was with him every conscious and unconscious second.

**Look, I think perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot here. I'm not your enemy, really I'm not.**

Sam wanted to punch something, the damn thing had been quiet for a while now and he was just starting to think it had gone away. Dean glanced over at him worriedly, he knew something was going on with his brother but with the way he was at the moment, he didn't want to push it.

**I realise investing your trust in someone else can be difficult, but the fact is that the story has been about nothing but you all this time!**

Sam sat up straight, pressing his thumb against the scar on his hand, and the voice fizzled out like someone suddenly turning off a record player. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

**Really!?**

He jumped awake, the voice hadn't been gone as he'd thought. "Crap." He muttered, rubbing his forehead.

**I was in the middle of something, do you have zero consideration for others? Are you **_**that **_**convinced I want something bad to happen to you? **

"Dean, I need to stretch my legs, can you pull over?" He turned to his brother, trying to keep a façade of normality about himself. He failed miserably.

"Sure thing." Dean just nodded, he'd ask him what was going on when Sam looked less like the walking dead and more like himself. He pulled over into a lay by with a small patch of grass and a single tree with a bench under it. It was dark and Sam sat on the bench, looking up at the stars. He would do it. He would acknowledge the voice, he had to.

"What do you want?"

**Why, I don't know how to convince you of this but I really do want to help you. To show you something beautiful. Let me I prove it, let me I prove I'm on your side.**

"You can start by leaving me the hell alone! I don't want your help, I don't need it. Just go!" He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice low so Dean wouldn't hear him.

**Look, Sammy. I rather think I'm the better option here. I mean, which would you really prefer? A little life counselling or the devil making you think you're on fire?**

Sam rubbed his forehead again, harder, as if he thought he could rub away the madness that had become his life. "Neither would be great, but right now I'd take Lucifer."

**Go ahead, Sammy. You want to know so badly what lies at the end of this road you've chosen, well don't let me stop you.**

Sam waited. Then he waited a little longer. After a good few minutes, there was not a peep out of the voice and no sign of alpha and omega. He smiled, leaning back and letting himself relax. Maybe it was all over. He stood up and went back to the car, Dean was lying across the leather seats, flicking idly through a magazine. Sam smirked.

"I wasn't gone that long was I?"

"About half an hour. I thought maybe a monster got you." He responded nonchalantly.

"So you figured the best course of action for that was to read," he paused to look at the title. "_Closer_?"

He looked at him very seriously. "The voices told me to."

Sam swallowed, panic rising. "What?"

Dean laughed slightly, "Lighten up, dude." he sat up and threw the glossy book over his shoulder onto the back seat. "Now, you want to tell me what's been going on, or shall we carry on pretending you're fine?"

"I am fine." Sam lied again.

"C'mon, Sammy! You were in the pit with two pissed angels. I know Cas really messed you up when he knocked down Death's wall and I just want to make sure you're handling it okay." He gave him a weathered but genuinely concerned look.

He thought for a moment, but knew he couldn't throw another thing in Dean's lap. He'd got enough crap already. "I'm doing okay."

"Not seeing anything?"

"Nope." This was the truth. He wasn't _seeing _anything.

"Good. I say we go get some burgers, then find a place to crash."

It had been a full day, and Sam was feeling a lot better. He'd got some sleep and there was no sign of any crazy stuff. Dean was beginning to relax as well, seeing his brother start to get some colour back into his face and in appetite returning. Things were looking up.

The Winchesters were investigating a supposed haunting in a block of flats late one night. Dean led the way, gun in one hand and flash light in the other. Sam followed, keeping an eye on the space behind them. They opened a door and before them were two other doors. Dean paused.

"Which way?"

**When Sammy came to a set of two doors, he took the door to his left.**

Sam froze, an icy feeling creeping up his back. But it had gone! Why was it back? He gritted his teeth. "This way." He led them through the door on his right. The voice just sighed.

**Sammy thought he was being clever by ignoring me. Well done, Sammy. We all think you are very powerful.**

The voice's tone was dripping with sarcasm, but Sam rolled his eyes and continued.

**Although this passage way felt like an escape, the truth was, at the end of this hall, Sammy would meet his violent end. **

Sam suddenly stopped. He did it so abruptly that Dean walked straight into the back of him.

"Jesus, Sam!" He hissed at him. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking… maybe you should look at what's behind that other door."

"You want to split up?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it might save time." He didn't look at him, he kept his eyes on the other end of the passage.

That irksome feeling of unease came into Dean's mind again from his brother's tone. He knew he still wasn't quite right. "You sure?"

"I got this, Dean." He started walking again.

Dean watched him for a while, then sighed and went back the way he came.

Sam continued forwards, his eyes skittering in all directions, ready for anything.

**The door behind him was not shut. Sammy still had every opportunity to turn around and get back on track. **

Sam kept going, his heart was thudding in his chest and cold fear ran up and down his spine.

**At this point, Sammy was making a conscious and concerted effort to walk forward and willingly confront his death. **

A door came into view at the end of the narrow hallway. Sam halted before it, looking at the dark wood for any clues of what lay beyond it. When it gave none he held his breath, took the handle, and opened the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean walked down the left handed passageway, filled with an uneasy feeling.

"Damn it, Cas… what am I supposed you do when I need you?" He sighed stopping at the door in front of him. He opened it without hesitation. There was nothing besides a large mirror standing on a table in the middle of the room. A single candle in front of it. As the door opened the candle lit and Dean's reflection became visible in the polished metal.

"Oh, I do not like this…" he muttered to himself, he turned to leave but found the door shut and locked behind him. "I really don't like this."

He had no choice but to head onward and stand before the mirror. He looked at his own image, the candle distorting it so it looked like there were two of him constantly joining and separating. There was movement behind him. Dean turned quickly, a gun packed with rock salt out leading the way, but nothing was there. He paused to take a deep breath and calm his thudding heart before turning back to the mirror. A woman was standing right behind him. He swore and turned, as he did he suddenly found himself in a completely different place. Eyeing around, he saw that he was back at the two doors from before.

"_Farewell, Sammy." Cried the Narrator. As Sammy lay helplessly before his demise._

Dean spun around, looking for the source of the voice. It sounded like an English woman. He would have found the voice soothing if it didn't feel like it was coming from inside his head.

_What exactly did the Narrator think he was going to accomplish?_

"Where are you?" Dean gripped his sawn off tightly, scanning the area.

_In your head, Dean. And might I say it is quite a mess in here, dear, dear, dear. You really should organise your thoughts alphabetically or something similar. May I suggest the Dewey Decimal System? _

"Get the hell out!"

_Calm down, Dean. I am simply trying to help. Now, where was I? Ah yes. When Dean came to a set of two doors, he took the door on his right._

Dean frowned for a moment, looking at the door Sam had led them down. "Screw that." He walked purposefully through the door on his left. There was a moment of darkness and suddenly he was facing the two doors again. "What the-"

_I don't think you quite understand, Dean took the door on his __**right**__._

Reluctantly, Dean did as the voice asked. He wandered down the corridor, slowly getting closer and closer to the door at the far end.

_When every path you can walk has been created for you long in advance, death becomes meaningless, making life the same._

"What are you babbling about?" He asked bitterly, not liking the idea of being controlled.

_Do you see that Sammy was already dead from the moment he began?_

"What?" that familiar sense of trepidation returned with a vengeance.

_Will you look at those two? How they wish to destroy one and other! How they wish to control one and other! How they both wish to be free…_

Dean broke into a sprint, reaching the door quickly. His hand gripped the handle, and turned.

Sam entered the room slowly, looking around. There was nothing in the room but a single candelabra hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, the tiny flames flickering and casting down shifting and shapeless shadows. He stepped further in, frowning at the nothingness.

"I assumed there would be something in here… this is kind of a let-down if you ask me." Sam smirked slightly. His smile vanished when he heard the door shut and lock behind him. He swallowed, getting ready for anything.

**As Sammy was thrown from wall to wall, and ceiling to floor, he reflected that his life had been of no consequence what so ever.**

Sam's brow deepened. "I'm not being-" his sentence was cut off as an invisible force suddenly shoved him against the wall, knocking all the air out of him. He was then thrown in a different direction, his back cracking against the cold stone. He gasped in pain as he felt something go wrong with his shoulder.

**Sammy cannot see the bigger picture, he doesn't know the real story. Trapped forever in his narrow vision of what this world means.**

Sam was hurled part way towards the ceiling before slammed into the ground face first. He felt like a rag doll been given to an unhappy child.

**Perhaps his death is of no great loss, like plucking the eye balls from a blind man. So he accepted this violent end to his brief and shallow life.**

He lay on the ground, his entire body in pain and unable to move. He stared at the candelabra above him, it swung back and forth as if caught in a gentle breeze. He found it oddly relaxing after this stressful turn of events.

**Farewell, Sammy.**

The light source came lose and began to hurtle towards his head, he knew the weight of it would crush his head and kill him instantly. He was vaguely relived. It was over. No more demons, no more angels, no more God and no more messes. But he thought about Dean, how he would be alone again. He didn't want to leave him, but he had no choice. He was partly aware that the door had just burst open and someone had rushed into the room, but everything just faded to black.

Dean kicked the door open and rushed inside. A ring of candles was falling towards a bleeding and unconscious Sam.

"NO!"

It froze. The flames still strangely dancing in their stands, but the heavy metal was suspended in the middle of the air. Dean felt funny, like something was being pulled out of him. He fell to his knees as a female ghost stepped out of his body. She wore what looked like a long Victorian dress with a low neckline and lace around all the edges. She had a black choker on with a dark blue gem encrusted in it. Her hair was long and loose, flowing around her shoulders and face. Another male spirit rose out of Sam and stood before her. He wore a suit that matched her outfits colouring. His dark mid length hair had been pulled back into a ponytail that was tied with a long black ribbon. Dean seemed to recognise them now they stood close, but he couldn't place names to the faces. The pair looked at each other for the longest time, a silent conversation passing between them. The man nodded slowly, agreeing to some unspoken question. The rather beautiful woman lifted her hand and moved it to the side, the candelabra following it and landing to the side of Sam's head, missing him. She glanced back at Dean and then they both vanished. Dean didn't exactly understand what had just happened, but he wasn't going to question it. All he knew is he wanted to get the hell out of dodge, and ask Bobby about a symbol that stopped ghost possession, which is what he assumed this had been. He was wrong.

Dean looked down at his knocked out brother and swore.

"Aw, not again…" He grumbled to himself and picked him up. "When you wake up, we are seriously going to talk about putting you on a diet." Dean carried him back to the Impala and drove them both in the direction of a hospital.

**I wonder if he found it. If what he wanted was to be the leading man in his own story, well perhaps he's gotten it… down in, where ever he is right now. I wonder if he's happy with his choice… and if he's learned the heavy cost that comes with it. He'll understand soon what I was trying to tell him. He needs me. Someone who will wrap everything up at the end, to make sense out of the chaos and the fear and confusion. That's who I am. That is what I mean to this world. Oh yes, yes I'll be back, there's no other way. Once this ends, once it all comes to a close, then I'll be back. The end will be here soon. Very soon… I can wait. **


End file.
